Bribery, Blackmail, and One Bad Chicken
by LJConnelly
Summary: Oneshot. Lucius's slippery ways bite him in the back when some very unusual things start happening to his son after a fancy dinner. Unabashedly silly and a little over-the-top - meant for a good laugh! Family; no slash.


**Author's Notes:**

**So, this is quite likely the weirdest thing I've ever written in my life. I don't usually write things **_**quite**_** this ridiculous. A little background: my friend wrote a really silly 3****rd**** year Drarry fanfic where Draco's boggart was meat for some weird reason, and he alluded to some traumatic event in his childhood, and I was curious what that event was, so I wrote it out for my friend to back up her fic. This is what resulted… Enjoy!**

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Harry Potter universe; that would belong to J.K. Rowling. I only claim the storyline and my original characters (Geneva, the deBisbys, the Eversons, and the two extra house elves.)_

Lucius slammed the door of the Malfoy Manor so hard that his young son toppled off his chair. Furious, he flung his cloak and hat at a nearby house elf and stormed into the kitchen where Narcissa was patiently waiting for him.

'Trouble at the Ministry?' she asked serenely.

'Oh, you might say that,' said Lucius, a livid fire still burning in his eyes. 'A scotch, Humbert,' he added to a second house elf. 'You recall the new bill Ministry is drafting?' he continued to Narcissa. 'The one regarding blood tests?'

'Blood tests?' Narcissa had not paid much mind to the details.

'Blood tests,' Lucius repeated. 'It's so asinine I can hardly tolerate to speak of it.'

'Do refresh my memory,' said Narcissa coolly.

'Some people at the Ministry want to tighten up on who they allow into high-power positions - which I'm all for, of course - mostly based on a candidate's bloodline. Naturally, there's plenty of opposition, Mudblood task forces if you will, and so on.

'Anyway, it doesn't take a genius, or a blood test, to determine one's lineage. Veritaserum would certainly be one way, and I think it should be utilised heavily in interrogating candidates for any Ministry position. It would certainly be plenty to make sure no imposters are sneaking in.

'But they want to administer blood tests, of all things. A Muggle invention, if you would believe the irony! And so easy to manipulate by magic! Any third- or fourth-year worth their salt in potions could alter the composition of a blood sample! And this is how the Ministry wants to regulate their personnel!' Lucius slammed his scotch glass on the table, rattling the dishes.

'Can't you just pay someone to change the stipulations of the bill?' Narcissa asked, sounding bored. She took a bite of broccoli and urged her son to do the same.

'I'm working on it,' said Lucius with a sigh. 'One Jonathon deBisby is heading the committee.'

'deBisby...' Narcissa mused. 'Who?'

'Old wizarding family from Southampton,' Lucius said, 'but there is one... unpleasant complication.'

'What's that?'

'deBisby's sister married a Muggle-born. And instead of disowning her like any respectable wizard ought to, he's defending her! Still worse, his sister is trying to give her husband a leg up into the Ministry. So naturally, deBisby wants there to be some loophole so his sister - blood traitor - can get her way! And let me tell you, this man - the Mudblood - is no honest man, there's no reason in all the wizarding world he should even set foot inside the Ministry! He's an insufferable, conniving little-' Lucius cut himself off, thinking better of using such language in front of his son.

Narcissa rested her hand lovingly on Lucius's shoulder. 'I'm sure you'll think of something, darling. Why don't you just relax and enjoy your dinner?'

Begrudgingly, Lucius took a deep breath and a bite of chicken... having no idea what havoc that very meat would wreak in just a week's time...

'Listen, deBisby,' Lucius breathed dangerously, holding back from drawing his wand.

'What I'm offering you is more than generous. All you have to do is re-word the damned security bill. Simple.'

'Malfoy, I don't need the money,' deBisby countered. 'I'm merely supporting my family. Surely you'd do the same.'

'Not for a Mudblood!' Lucius hissed.

deBisby said nothing.

'And he's not the only Mudblood tainting you name,' Lucius pressed on. 'Is he?'

Still, deBisby said nothing.

'IS HE?' Lucius bellowed.

'I know not what you speak of,' said deBisby at length.

'Yes you do.' Lucius's eyes narrowed. 'I know about Eleesya. I know you're her real father.'

'How on earth did you-'

'I have my connections,' said Lucius. 'Would you rather keep you filthy brother-in-law out of the Ministry, or keep Eleesya our little secret?'

deBisby looked torn.

'Surely you'd protect your family's good name from scandal. So much as you can, with the bloodlines getting so murky already.'

'I'll see what I can do,' deBisby agreed at last.

'Good,' said Lucius smugly. 'You will certainly find your decision... advantageous.'

deBisby nodded curtly and returned to his office. Lucius apparated home, satisfied for the time being.

A few days later, Lucius's black owl swooped into the den, carrying an embossed cream-colored envelope with gold ink.

'Look at this,' said Lucius. 'the deBisby's want us to join them for dinner this weekend; they're extending an olive branch, he says.'

'We'll have to go, then,' said Narcissa resignedly. 'Can't have them thinking badly of us.'

'Seven o'clock, this coming Saturday,' said Lucius. 'I'll send them our return owl.'

A decadent array of every sort of food imaginable awaited the Malfoys at the deBisby mansion. A host of house elves met them at the door, took their cloaks, and escorted them to the table.

'A fine display, to be sure,' said Narcissa down her nose.

'Please, make yourselves comfortable, deBisby insisted. 'If you desire anything else, please, just ask.'

The Malfoys settled in and began to enjoy the meal and to discuss the goings on at the Ministry – avoiding the topic of the blood test bill, of course.

Unfortunately, the deBisbys had no children Draco's age, and the young boy soon tired of the older wizards' conversation. To entertain himself instead, he helped himself to whatever food looked tastiest – especially a particularly lavish chicken dish, laden with juicy tomatoes, cheeses, and olive oil.

'Draco, darling,' said Narcissa, 'you mustn't be so picky. Best eat some of these steamed carrots too.' She spooned a helping onto her son's plate.

'Make me,' Draco sneered. Narcissa sighed.

'Draco!' Lucius snapped. 'Mind your tongue!'

'Yes, Father,' said Draco angelically. He then turned up his nose at the carrots and took another bit of chicken. Still, the evening wore on, and Draco was eventually bored even of eating. Tired of it, actually. He pushed back his chair and crossed to Narcissa.

'Mum,' he said, tugging at her skirt. 'Mama!'

'What is it, dear?' She asked turning away from the conversation.

'I'm tired,' he said announced.

Narcissa tut-tutted and stroked Draco's hair. 'It is getting a little late,' she said. 'Why don't you go and have a lie down in the sitting room until we're ready to leave?'

Draco nodded and left the dining room. He tried his best to make himself comfortable, but it was no good. Despite how sleepy he was, he couldn't lie still, as his skin was beginning to prickle. Soon, Narcissa and Lucius had decided it was time to go home, and they joined their son in the sitting room.

'Come, Draco,' said Lucius. 'Get up.'

The youngest Malfoy pulled himself off the sofa and joined his parents. Narcissa took his hand as Lucius threw floo powder on the fire and stepped in.

'After you, dear,' said Narcissa. Draco reluctantly walked into the fire and went whirling away towards home. Back at the Malfoy Manor, he walked unsteadily out of the fire, feeling tingly. Narcissa stepped out a moment later.

'Off to bed,' she said, reading the look on her son's face. You just need a good night's sleep.'

'Just a moment,' said Lucius. He took Narcissa aside and muttered something indistinguishable, and she walked upstairs, looking irritated.

'Draco,' said Lucius sternly. 'I will not tolerate such behaviour from you again. In front of another well-to-do family, one we're trying _not_ to burn bridges with, no less!'

Draco stared at the floor. 'I'm sorry, Father. I wasn't _trying _to be rude. You see, I don't feel quite right…'

'Well maybe next time you won't eat like such a PIG!' Lucius seized Draco's forearms. Draco struggled to get away, squirming until he slammed his head against the wall, crying out at the sound of his skull hitting the wall.

'Stop it,' said Lucius sternly. 'You're behaving like a baby.'

'Yes, Father.' Draco stood still.

'Good,' said Lucius, relinquishing his hold on Draco's arms. 'Now go to bed.'

Lucius hadn't understood what he meant at all, but Draco dropped the subject, not wanting to land himself on the receiving end of any more criticism.

'Yes, Father.'

'Good,' said Lucius. Now go to bed.'

Draco hurried up the stairs, though every step make his skin crawl. He climbed into bed anyway, rubbing the back of his head.

In his sleep, for some reason, he could dream of nothing but food. First he was back at the deBisby Mansion, but there were tables upon tables, covered with only multitudes of platters of the chicken dish he'd been eating earlier. At first, he was delighted, but the more he ate, the itchier he became, and soon it felt as though he was trying to tear off his own skin, but the more he scratched, the worse the burning grew, and the tighter all his muscles became, and his eyes and nose began to swell shut. Then he was twirling around in the fireplace while Lucius shoved piece after piece of chicken down his throat until he couldn't breathe.

Draco awoke from the dream with a gasp, then instinctively put his hands on his chest as he struggled to breathe. Panicking, he shoved the blankets off and stumbled out of bed, trying to get to the window for some fresh air. He made it as far as halfway before feeling the burning sensation spread to the rest of his skin, and even putting his feet on the floor was excruciatingly painful. _Ow!_ He tried to fight through it, tiptoeing across the floor, remembering too late that he couldn't reach the handle of the window. The pain in his feet overtook his willpower, and he sat down rather suddenly on the floor. Coughing, he leaned against the wall. The strain of trying desperately to breathe made him feel dizzy.

_Oh no,_ he thought. _If I have to wake them up,_ _Father'll really have my head…_

No sooner had he thought this than there was a soft knock on the door, and his parents entered the room.

'Are you alright, son?' Narcissa asked, as if her mothers' intuition had told her she'd better check. 'Oh goodness.'

'Mm-mm.'

'Well,' said Lucius disapprovingly, 'perhaps if you hadn't been such a pig— '

'It's not that!' Draco cried out, clutching at his throat. 'It's almost as if—'

But what Draco almost felt like, Narcissa and Lucius never found out, for at that exact moment, he scrunched up his face and sneezed, but what came rocketing out of his nose were two perfectly formed chicken eggs, which hit the floor, bounced up, and proceeded to repeatedly knock Draco in the face.

'Ahhh! Father! Do something!'

Narcissa and Lucius stood dumbfounded as the eggs began to multiply, and with the exception of the original two, to hatch. Some rapidly became adult chickens, but most transfigured into dead, cooked ones that bore a striking resemblance to a dish they had all seen just a few hours before. All of them whizzed around, smacking Draco upside the head, cramming themselves into his ears, up his nose…

'Father!' He shrieked.

Narcissa tentatively tried a few charms and counter curses, but to no avail. Lucius had enough wits about him to conjure cages around some of them, but soon the room was so full of caged chickens – some live, some zombie-like, some fully cooked – that there was scarcely room to manoeuvre.

'Humbert! Dobby! DO SOMETHING!' Lucius bellowed.

With a crack, the two house elves appeared and began to try their own magic. It too, was no good. Meanwhile, more eggs were appearing out of nowhere. Some were bouncing from floor to ceiling; some were cracking and leaving slimy yokes behind, and still others were developing hastily into live and cooked chickens. Those that were already in cages were also multiplying, and several incensed chickens creating an attack formation and dive-bombed Draco. The room was a disastrous mess: torn draperies hung half-heartedly from the curtain rods, Draco's once-comfortable bed had been reduced to a pile of soiled down and velvet, his playthings lay broken and scattered, and there was meat everywhere.

Deciding their best shot was to make a break for it, Lucius took hold of his wife and son and hauled them out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind them.

'To our bedroom!' Lucius shouted to Narcissa. 'GO!'

Narcissa and Draco ran for it, and Lucius cast an enchantment on the door to seal it shut, leaving the poor house elves trapped inside with the rogue chickens. The family regrouped in the master bedroom, all gasping for breath.

'What WAS that?' Narcissa wondered aloud. 'I've never seen such a thing! Impossible to control! Chickens! What rubbish! Can't imagine where they all came from…' she trailed off as Draco started coughing again, seemingly producing nothing this time, but then from a tiny speck of saliva there appeared a giant animated drumstick which sprang to life and began to beat Draco soundly around the head.

'Ow! Get off me!' he wailed, flailing his arms against the drumstick, which appeared to be growing larger with each blow. 'Help!' Draco cried as the drumstick pounded his chest like a battering ram, knocking the breath out of him. He fell over backwards, coughing and sucking in stuttering breaths of air. Suddenly he felt as if his lungs were filled with something dry and scratchy, something like cotton… no… like feathers!

With another great sneeze, a battalion of feathers flew out of Draco's mouth and nose. At first, they landed in a motionless heap, and Narcissa breathed a sigh of relief, but then the rose from the pile, one by one, and tried to cram themselves into any orifice of Draco's they could find. They seemed to be trying to peck their way into his very pores. Draco burst into tears.

'Mum! Dad! Help! They won't leave me alone!' He curled up as small as he could, covering his eyes and ears. Still the feathers pecked relentlessly at the back of his head.

Narcissa did her best to shield her son from the enchanted feathers, but they didn't seem interested in her. They flew around her arms, bending at awkward angles to sneak-attack Draco's nostrils. Lucius tried one last desperate counter curse, which didn't exactly _work_, but the giant drumstick exploded into a million pieces, showering everyone in bits of chicken. Then began to rot, and the feathers all became dying, mutated chicks that soon blended in with the rest of the rotting meat. Just as the chaos died down, the noise down the hall grew louder, and a meat-covered Lucius stepped out to investigate. There was quite a ruckus coming from behind Draco's magically sealed door, which Lucius eyed apprehensively. Draco and Narcissa followed, both to see what Lucius was going to do, and to get away from the stench of the rotting chicken. It was not an effective escape. Before Lucius could do so much as re-open the door, there was a terrific explosion, and Draco's bedroom burst into flames. The fire burnt itself out almost as quickly as it had ignited, leaving the floor and what remained of the walls exposed to the night air. Mounds and mounds of chicken, now all dead and mostly cooked, lay strewn across the floor, smoking angrily into the sky. The two house elves watched, dismayed.

The Malfoys stood transfixed, momentarily speechless. A few minutes later, Draco resumed crying, realising that now not only was he itchy and sneezy and covered in rotting meat, but his room was decimated. Most of his luxurious possessions had been in that room, and they were now either burned, torn apart, or soiled with chicken. He wept loudly, scratching at his miserable skin and trying to wipe his eyes, succeeding only in smearing them with meat.

'This is getting _ridiculous_!' said Narcissa at length. 'We're going to St. Mungo's.'

Lucius cast one last look at the smouldering disaster and nodded before casting several protective spells on the manor.

'We should waste no time,' said Lucius, taking Draco's arm and apparating to the waiting room of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Narcissa joined them a few seconds later. It took the family several minutes to explain their exceedingly peculiar predicament, all the while enduring dirty looks and whispers as onlookers wrinkled their noses at the smell of the decaying meat.

Getting rid of the hexed meat turned out to be quite a chore. It took the brainpower and magical fortitude of a whole host of mediwizards to cleanse it all away and assure that Draco was symptom (and feather) free. By dawn, he was pronounced clean, and the Malfoys were on their way home.

The next morning came impossibly early after such a sleepless night. Lucius slept an extra half-hour before getting up and dressing hurriedly to head out to the Ministry for another day of professional bullying. Narcissa stayed in bed with Draco until he woke up around ten.

'Is Father still here?' was the first thing he wanted to know.

'No, he's left for the Ministry,' said Narcissa. 'How are you feeling?'

'I don't know,' he answered.

Narcissa led him downstairs and offered him breakfast. Draco shied away from the sausages and bacon fearfully, picking apathetically at a piece of bread instead. Narcissa was still concerned that something else might happen to her son despite their trip to St. Mungo's, so she wrapped him in a blanket on the sofa, encouraging him to get some rest. He hadn't sneezed out feathers or anything else unusual since the episode, but he was still paler than usual and seemed frightened – almost traumatised. Narcissa grew more uneasy as time passed and her son did not get any better. She wished Lucius would come home; she wanted to take Draco to see their nurse to get a second opinion, and to follow up after the previous night. The more she thought about everything that had happened, the stranger it all seemed. Draco had been perfectly fine until just hours after dinner, and then an all-too-familiar chicken dish reappeared in many forms to haunt the whole family… Narcissa had never heard of a dish going so horribly bad.

She began to suspect foul play…

Around dinnertime, Lucius returned from the Ministry, looking annoyed, but not livid, as he had been lately. Narcissa almost hated to irritate him further, but she'd been brooding all day and needed to vent.

'Lucius, darling?' she ventured once her husband had shed his cloak and sat down with a glass of red wine. 'I think we should have a nurse look over Draco. He's still not quite right. It's almost as if he's in shock.' She glanced into the living room where her son was sleeping again. Lucius nodded his agreement. 'Moreover,' she continued, 'I've starting thinking it's more than just bad luck all this happened.'

'How do you mean?' Lucius asked, becoming more interested.

'Well…' Narcissa went on tentatively. 'At first I thought something was bad about that specific dish, but somehow I doubt it. It took so much work at St. Mungo's, some of the healers had never seen anything like it before. And he didn't eat anything we didn't eat, and neither of us got cursed.'

'Are you sure?' Lucius asked.

'Certain.'

'Perhaps it's just a coincidence,' Lucius suggested. 'He might just have a serious allergy to something.'

'I've never heard of an allergy that serious, and malicious, for that matter. That's why I want to have him looked over. I'm no good at diagnostic charms. All I know is my son got viciously attacked after eating at their house last night, and I have a bad feeling about it.'

Lucius sighed and set down his wine glass. 'I'll send for Geneva.'

The nurse arrived momentarily, and she gently woke up Draco to examine him. When she was finished, the look on her face was one of bewilderment.

'What is it? Narcissa asked nervously.

'He's been attacked in a most unusual way,' Geneva announced. 'A homing assault curse has been set on him.'

'A homing assault curse?' Narcissa repeated. 'What's that?'

Lucius shrugged, his face impassive.

'It's quite rare,' said Geneva, 'and honestly rather rude. Essentially the hex is cast from a distance, and travels according to its intended victim through whatever medium is needed. The only catch is, it can change media so many times along its path that it can be extremely difficult to trace back to its origin. Especially if one or more of the vectors is living.'

'Well,' said Narcissa, 'how shall we get started, then?'

'Have you any suspects?' Geneva asked.

Narcissa related her theory about the deBisbys and their possible grudge against the Malfoys. Geneva seemed sceptical about this theory, but it was their only lead, so she returned to Draco to do a more thorough examination. After a good quarter of an hour, she had determined a certain chicken dish to have been the final vector.

'I don't understand,' said Narcissa at length. 'Lucius and I ate the dish and neither of us were affected.'

'That's because neither of you were the intended victim,' Geneva explained. 'Since the curse is homing, it was not transferred to either of you.'

'But why would someone want to attack our _son_?' Narcissa asked, sounding alarmed.

Geneva shrugged.

Lucius had a sudden worrisome thought… children… not a fortnight ago, he had threatened deBisby with revealing his paternity of Eleesya. Could this be deBisby's idea of a warning to keep his mouth shut? Lucius decided not to voice this new concern.

'Anyway,' Geneva went on, 'I take it you know where the chicken came from?'

'Yes,' said Narcissa, 'from the deBisbys. But how will we prove it?'

'We have to trace the curse back to the caster,' said Geneva. 'It will be easier if we return to the house where you had dinner last night.'

Lucius frowned. This was going to be one uncomfortable visit.

Narcissa stayed home with Draco, who had fallen asleep again after the examination, and Lucius took Geneva to the deBisby mansion.

'Evening, deBisby,' said Lucius curtly.

'Malfoy. What brings you out this way?'

'Bad business, actually,' Lucius said. 'You see, it turns out my son has been the victim of a most unusual homing assault curse, and the last vector was a chicken dish that came from this very house…'

Jonathan deBisby stiffened. 'A homing assault curse? I've never heard of such a thing.'

'Funny,' said Lucius, looking deBisby up and down as if assessing his ability to cast a malevolent curse. 'If you're so innocent… surely you won't mind if Geneva and I have a look around for traces that might lead us to another vector.'

'Go right ahead,' said deBisby.

As Lucius had never heard of the hex in question either, he sat in the deBisby's sitting room reading the Prophet while Geneva searched the house, examining various objects she suspected. After an in-depth search of the kitchen, she summoned Lucius and Jonathan.

'I don't think it's the origin,' said Geneva, 'but it's certainly the next vector.' In her hand was the scruffy fabric covering a very unhappy house elf.

'Gobo had no idea, sir!' the elf wailed tearfully. 'Gobo was only preparing the food as he was ordered!'

Geneva frowned. 'I believe you,' she said. 'I've never seen a house elf use this branch of magic before. What's more likely is that you were the next vector for the curse unknowingly. That's part of what makes this hex so difficult to trace.'

'Speaking of which,' Lucius chimed in, 'how will we trace it back from here? Could there be more vectors in the house?'

Geneva thought about this for a moment, tapping her chin thoughtfully. 'The house elf is very mobile,' she said after a while. 'Living vectors are very convenient since there is less need to transfer the hex – it moves with the living vector. It would make sense for the hex to zero in on a living vector first, so Gobo was probably the first vector in the house. Unless…'

Lucius knew he and Geneva were thinking the same thing: unless Jonathan cast it. He bent closer to Geneva and whispered, 'How are your potion skills?'

'Potions, sir?' Geneva asked, looking bewildered.

'I want your most recent batch of Veritaserum,' said Lucius, lowering his voice even further.

'A-as you wish,' Geneva stammered.

Lucius straightened up and turned to Jonathan. 'That is all,' he said simply. 'We will return tomorrow to… continue.'

'Of course,' said Jonathan, still looking supremely uncomfortable.

Lucius whipped his cloak around and left the house with Geneva at his heels.

The next day, Draco was finally beginning to look less dazed, and Narcissa had settled on telling him he had simply had a bad reaction to something. The full story, she decided, was far too political for her young son to wrap his mind about.

Lucius, on the other hand, had not going to the Ministry that day, but had returned promptly to the deBisby mansion instead; with him were Geneva and her Veritaserum. After suggesting they first have a drink, Lucius sent deBisby to the kitchen to get biscuits and slipped the potion into his gin and tonic.

'So,' said Lucius after an unknowing Jonathan deBisby had finished his drink. 'What can you tell me about the origin of the homing assault curse?'

'Well…' said deBisby, 'I know neither myself not my wife cast it, and the house elf was only a vector. That's all I know.'

Lucius bristled. If deBisby was telling the truth – and he was, considering the Veritaserum – then they were right back to square one.

'Can you think of anyone that would be so angry at my family as to curse my son?' Lucius tried.

deBisby thought about this for a moment, then said, 'My sister's husband—'

'The Mudblood?' Lucius interrupted.

'Yes,' deBisby went on. 'When he found out why I was changing the security bill, he accused me of succumbing to outer influences, and demanded to know who made me change it and why. He even threatened to hurt his wife – my sister – if I didn't tell him!'

'You should have let him!' Lucius admonished. 'She's a blood traitor; it's what she deserves!'

deBisby said nothing.

'You gave him my name?' Lucius prompted.

'Yes.'

'And he knew who I was?'

'Yes.'

'Did he want revenge?'

'Yes.'

'Did he tell you how he was going to get it?'

'No.'

'What is your brother-in-law's name?'

'Martin Everson.'

'And his address?'

'630 10th Street, here in Southampton.'

Lucius stood up. 'That will be all, deBisby. Good day.' He turned to Geneva. 'I think we've found our culprit. Let's go.' He immediately apparated.

'What the Mudblood's name again?' Lucius asked when the arrived on 10th Street.

'It's Martin,' said Geneva.

'Filthy common name.'

Momentarily they reached the house, and Lucius knocked on the door, Veritaserum clasped in his opposite hand. A woman answered the door, and at once Lucius knew she must be deBisby's sister.

'Good afternoon,' she said cordially, although she was plainly puzzled.

'The same to you,' said Lucius with a bow. 'To whom do I owe the pleasure?'

'Sarah Everson,' said the woman, shaking Lucius's hand. 'What brings you here this afternoon?'

'I'm a friend of your brother's,' Lucius explained. 'He seemed to think your husband and I ought to get a little better acquainted.'

Mrs Everson still looked quite confused, but nonetheless she showed Lucius and Geneva to the sitting room.

'I'll send Martin in just a moment,' she said. 'Can I offer you a drink while you're waiting?'

'A scotch, please. And a sparkling water for the lady.' He nodded towards Geneva. Soon Sarah returned with the drinks, then left to send for Martin. Several minutes later, they were still waiting. Lucius began to grow anxious. After quite some time, Martin finally met them in the sitting room. Unfortunately, he recognised Lucius.

'YOU!' he cried. 'How dare you set foot in my house?'

Lucius raised his eyebrows and responded coolly, 'Not the best first impression, Everson. How can I have possibly aggrieved you so when we've never even met?'

'You know perfectly well what you've done, Malfoy! You're the one trying to keep me out of the Ministry!'

'Keep _your kind _out of the Ministry,' Lucius corrected him. 'Nothing personal.'

'Nothing personal?' Martin spat. 'You disgust me! You pure-blood maniacs are all the same! VILE!' By this time he had drawn his wand.

'Now, Everson, let us not be uncivilised. Surely we can reach an agreement without _violence_.'

Martin advanced a few paces, holding his wand steadily pointed at Lucius. 'What is there to agree on? You're obsessed with bloodlines, which is in my way of finding a job; I'm just trying to make ends meet, and you're in _my_ way!'

'Frustrating,' said Lucius, clicking his tongue with an air of mock sympathy. 'You _must_ want me out of your way… or perhaps you only want revenge…'

'Revenge?' Martin sneered. 'Oh, I've already gotten revenge! Now I just need to get you out of my _house!_'

Lucius eyed Martin calmly. 'Oh, have you? And might that revenge go by the name of a _homing assault curse?_'

Martin froze. 'How in Merlin's name did you know?'

'Unlike you, Mudblood, I'm not struggling to 'make ends meet'. I happen to have in my service one of the best nurse witches wealth can provide.'

Geneva beamed. Such praises from a Malfoy were rare indeed. Meanwhile, Martin looked as though he might start breathing fire or foaming at the mouth at any moment.

'Maybe, Malfoy,' he hissed, 'your _considerable means_ would be better put to use on something more worthwhile! A course in _manners_ perhaps!'

Lucius laughed. 'Please. Is that the best you can do?'

'Not by far!' said Martin. 'You know full well what I'm capable of! You saw what happened to your son!'

'So you admit it!' cried Lucius, rising to his feet at last. 'You cursed my son!'

'Of course I did you, bloody Death Eater! And what do you think you're going to do about it? Curse me back? I'm not afraid to hurt your wife, too, you know!'

Lucius, knowing a mental case when he saw one, shook his head. 'I'll not be sinking to your level, Mudblood. I'll simply be reporting you to the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. That curse is illegal, you know.'

'You'll never prove it!' Martin snarled.

'I already have,' said Lucius, motioning to Geneva. A True-Tail quill finished its writing with a flourish, and Geneva's parchment burst into flame, leaving behind a tiny speaker box. Geneva handed it to Lucius.

'Every word recorded. An immutable record. Good day, Everson.'

Narcissa was both relieved and alarmed when Lucius told her what had happened.

'Do you think he'll come after us again?' she asked.

'I doubt it,' said Lucius, 'but I'm turning him in all the same. He won't go to Azkaban for that curse, but he won't soon forget the consequences, either. And he certainly won't be eligible for a position at the Ministry. I'll sure a restraining charm is cast on him so he can't curse us again. I'll take this in first thing tomorrow.'

Jonathan deBisby was horrified and terribly humiliated.

'I'm so sorry,' he told Lucius at the Ministry a few days later. 'I had no idea it would come to this. We've let the house elf go as a precaution… so sorry.'

Lucius nodded. 'Just carry on as we agreed,' he said. 'You know what I want.'

'I know. I guess I learned about my brother-in-law's true colours. I won't be seeing him – or my sister – for some time.'

'Good,' said Lucius. 'You'll see that everything goes smoothly then?'

'Yes,' said Jonathan. 'Take care of yourself, Lucius. And your family.'

'As always,' said Lucius. 'Good day.'

Back at home, Lucius was pleased to see that things were gradually returning to normal. Narcissa was looking less paranoid, and had even gone back to perusing witches' fashion magazines in front of the fire. Draco was playing and eating normally again. However, since the chicken catastrophe, and from that day forward, the youngest Malfoy became a strict vegetarian.

22


End file.
